Book Tour Sign Up: No Good About Goodbye by CT Liotta (Feb 28 – Mar 4) Genre: YA/ Coming-of-Age/ LGBTQ2+ @CTLiotta @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books #BookTwitter

Hey Guys!

I’m organizing a book tour for a novel called No Good About Goodbye by author CT Liotta and will need hosts! The tour will run from February 28th to March 4th and though reviews get priority, there will be spots for spotlights, interviews, etc… Physical copies will be available for reviewers in the US and we will have digital editions for international readers. 

Giveaway Details:

Grand prize winner gets:

1 Autographed ARC Copy of NO GOOD ABOUT GOODBYE

1 $25 Amazon Gift Card

1 Set of fake mustaches

1 Set of invisible ink pens

2 Fake passports with stamps for blowing town incognito

A custom thank-you note and luggage stickers

Page a day travel journal

Second place winner gets:

1 Autographed ARC Copy of NO GOOD ABOUT GOODBYE

1 $10 Amazon Gift Card

2 Fake passports with stamps for blowing town incognito

A custom thank-you note and luggage stickers.

Third place winner gets:

1 Autographed ARC Copy of NO GOOD ABOUT GOODBYE

2 Fake passports with stamps for blowing town incognito

A custom thank-you note and luggage stickers

Sign up below!

Ebook Final Cover

No Good About Goodbye

Publication Date: November 24th, 2021

Genre: YA/ Coming-of-Age/ Adventure/ LGBTQ2+

Publisher:Rot Gut Pulp

Fifteen-year-old Ian Racalmuto’s life is in ruins after an embassy raid in Algiers. His mother, a vodka-drunk spy, is dead. His brother, a diplomat, has vanished. And, he’s lost a cremation urn containing a smartphone that could destroy the world.

Forced to live with his cantankerous grandfather in Philadelphia, Ian has seven days to find his brother and secure the phone—all while adjusting to life in a troubled urban school and dodging assassins sent to kill him.

Ian finds an ally in William Xiang, an undocumented immigrant grappling with poverty, a strict family, and abusive classmates. They make a formidable team, but when Ian’s feelings toward Will grow, bombs, bullets and crazed bounty hunters don’t hold a candle to his fear of his friend finding out. Will it wreck their relationship, roll up their mission, and derail a heist they’ve planned at the State Department?

Like a dime store pulp adventure of the past, No Good About Goodbye is an incautious, funny, coming-of-age tale for mature teens and adult readers.

“Brilliant… a rollicking good read. Rich with often realistically crude boy lingo, No Good About Goodbye is an utterly charming teenage LGBTQ falling-in-love adventure while simultaneously rocking an international crime storyline.”—C.S. Holmes, Indiereader

A smart, funny pile-up at the intersection of Surrender Your SonsGrasshopper Jungle, and a pulp spy thriller.

Like Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, if Simon’s mom were a vodka-soaked spy and grown assassins were trying to kill Simon.

Goodreads

About the Author

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CT Liotta was born and raised in West Virginia before moving to Ohio for college, where he majored in Biology. He now uses Philadelphia as his base of operations. You can find him backpacking all over the world.

Liotta takes interest in writing, travel, personal finance, and sociology. He likes vintage airlines and aircraft, politics, news, foreign affairs, ’40s pulp and film noir. He doesn’t fear math or science, and is always up for Indian food. His favorite candy bar used to be Snickers, but lately it’s been 3 Musketeers. He isn’t sure why.

CT Liotta | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Newsletter

 

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Bookstagram Tour Sign Up: The Rise of Raidin by Susan L. Markloff (Feb 28 – Mar 4) Genre: YA Fantasy @SusanMarkloff @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #YABooks #ReaderCommunity #Bookstagram #BookLovers #Books

Annnd we’re off and running in 2022 already!

I’m organizing a bookstagram tour for YA Fantasy, The Rise of Raidin (The Human-Born Era #1) by Susan L. Markloff. The tour will run from February 28th to the 4th of March and I am looking for reviews and features. Physical review copies will only be available to US reviewers, digital for international readers, and giveaway details are TBD. 

Sign up below!

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The Rise of Raidin

Publication Date: November 1st, 2021

Genre: YA Fantasy/ Urban Fantasy

Jennifer Monroe is an average eighteen-year-old girl, and she knows it.

Which is precisely why no one—least of all herself—would suspect anything extraordinary from the quiet, boring girl who only has a few good friends to call her own. But that all got flipped on its head about a year ago, when two imposing men, a complete goofball, a werewolf, and two large four-legged creatures barged into her life.

Now over a year later, Jen leads a double life. Mild mannered, quiet, high schooler by day; dragon slayer and raw-energy-wielding-warrior (in training) by night. Juggling SAT scores, papers, and mastering the art of flying, she’s managed to keep her friends and family oblivious of her hybrid abilities and continue on a track for college. Everything was going swimmingly.

Until one normal, foggy, November morning, when a dragon crashed through the clouds, heralding a small army to descend on her high school. All for little, forgettable her. Making her realize that maybe there’s a whole lot more going on than she originally thought.

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About the Author

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Susan L Markloff is a rising YA Fantasy author. Upon devouring fantastical worlds as a child, she often spent her days playing make-believe and spinning stories with friends and family. At the age of 18, she wrote what would become the first draft of her debut novel, The Rise of the Raidin. While at Houghton College, she cultivated a love for the written word, and majored in Creative Writing. There she was encouraged by other aspiring authors and by her professors to hone her skills and write the best version of her stories. The Rise of the Raidin, book 1 of The Human-Born Era, is the first of over twenty planned novels revolving around the world of Tilion.

Susan L. Markloff | Instagram | Twitter | Facebook

 

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Book Tour: Forgotten Scars by Natalie J. Reddy – Genre: YA/ Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

Welcome to the book tour for Forgotten Scars by Natalie J. Ruddy. Today we have an excerpt for you to read and a really amazing giveaway to enter at the end!

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Forgotten Scars (Scars of Days Forgotten #1)

Publication Date: March 2021

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance

Humanity is not alone.

Supernatural beings are hiding among us. The Psi have remained secluded from humans for far too long, and there’s a faction that is conspiring to break the veil and use their powers to take their rightful place among humans – as our rulers and conquerors.

Wren is a college student who didn’t think her life could get much worse. That is until she’s kidnapped by the Psi and questioned about her closest friend. But the Psi offer her something no one else can – the truth about who she is.

But can she trust the Psi? Can she trust her feelings towards her irritatingly charming captor? Or is she just a pawn in a very dangerous game?

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Excerpt

Once the door closed, I flung the blanket off. The room looked like it could be someone’s study or office. I hurried to the windows and yanked open the drapes and the room flooded with sunlight. Daylight! I’d been out for hours!

There were no bars on the windows, but a quick glance outside revealed that I was on the second floor of wherever this was. Climbing or jumping down could be an option. A second story jump wouldn’t kill me, but it would likely hurt like hell. 

I groped around the window frame for a lock or way to open it. I found nothing. Hurrying over to the next set of drapes, I yanked them open and found a set of French doors. Behind the glass, I could see a little balcony, and I reached for the door handle.

“Damn it!” The knob moved, but when I shoved against it, it didn’t budge. I shook my head. “People don’t go to the trouble of kidnapping someone, only to leave them in an unlocked room, you idiot,” I muttered to myself. Nothing was ever that easy.

Something heavy—that’s what I needed. If I couldn’t just walk out, I would break out!

I turned, and for the first time, I noticed the fire cracking in the fireplace along the far wall behind the couch I’d woken upon. On a second glance, the room looked more like an old library than someone’s personal office. The walls had deep mahogany wood paneling and were lined with books from floor to ceiling. There was a large matching desk stationed on the far side of the room. The room was almost the size of my entire apartment and was full of plenty of things that looked nice and heavy.

I pushed my mussed hair out of my eyes and walked over to an end table by the couch and picked up a large, very ugly candelabra. I studied it for a moment taking in the fat bronze cherub with its vacant and creepy looking eyes and grimaced. “Who would buy something this ugly?” I muttered as I moved back to the window. I would need to move quickly once the glass broke. 

I moved swiftly across the room to the French doors, lifted the candelabra and swung—

“There’s a deadbolt at the top,” a voice spoke, stopping me mid-swing.

I shrieked, and whirled around to see a guy had entered the room. He held a tray in his arms, his lips quirked up in an amused half-smile.

“Um—what?” My heart hammered in my chest at the sudden appearance of someone in the room. How had I not heard him?

“Up at the top of the door.” The guy jerked his chin in the direction of the French doors. “There’s a deadbolt you can unlock if you need to get some air that badly. No reason to break perfectly good windows.” He crossed the room and set the tray down on the coffee table. “Not that you’d break them anyway. They’re made of unbreakable glass,” he added as he poured himself a cup of what smelled like coffee.

I watched as he added heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of cream before heading to the couch, where he sat down like everything was totally normal and took a sip of his coffee. But normal people didn’t kidnap people or need unbreakable windows.

“You can put that down.” He motioned to the candelabra still held tightly in my grasp. “You won’t be needing it.”

“You going to let me leave if I do?” I dared to ask.

The amused smile that hadn’t left his mouth since he had first spoken grew. “I can’t let you leave, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.” He lifted the cup to his lips and took another sip of his coffee.

I tightened my grip on the candelabra, the hard bronze managing to give me a small measure of comfort as I said, “I’d feel more comfortable holding onto this then.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded.

“Why bother telling me about the lock on the door if you aren’t going to let me go?” I asked.

“Letting you go outside and letting you leave isn’t the same thing.” He set his cup down and strode towards me.

Every muscle in my body tensed as he stopped a foot away. He wasn’t much older than me, and only a few inches taller, but his confidence made it feel like he was towering over my five foot seven inches. The smile had left his mouth as he studied me. His eyes were a light golden brown that could only be described as honey-colored, and they almost glowed against his light brown skin. His hair was a dark wavy mass that reached his collar.

Good looking didn’t even begin to describe this guy. He was the type of subject I’d normally love to sketch or paint, but given my current position, I wasn’t really in the mood. Although my situation didn’t stop me from noticing his strong nose and narrow jaw, or the way his lashes were long enough for a mascara commercial. I couldn’t help it. I saw potential art in most everything, especially beautiful things. And damn it, he was beautiful.

His mouth quirked to the side as if something amused him, but he didn’t say what. He just continued to look at me.

I straightened to my full height, refusing to shrink away. “Why am I here? Or are you not important enough to tell me either?”

He took a step closer, closing the gap between us and leaned in, his face a measly couple inches from mine. “I’m the reason you’re here.” He didn’t move away, and I glared at him.

“You’re in my personal space.”

“Am I?” He smirked as he flicked the end of my nose.

“Don’t touch me!” I smacked his hand away.

His teeth gleamed as he flashed a cocky grin, “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” The grin didn’t leave his face, but he took a step back and moved behind the desk. “Come sit down, Wren, and we’ll talk.” He sat in the deep brown leather chair.

The use of my name caught my attention. “How do you know my name?”

He nodded to the chair in front of the desk.

“I’m not sitting until you tell me how you know my name.” I stormed toward the desk and slammed the stupid ugly candelabra down in front of him with as much force as I could muster.

The jerk didn’t even flinch.

“I’m the one who arranged for you to be brought here,” he said. “It helps to find out the name of the people you’re kidnapping.”

He had me there.

“Now, sit down, please.” His words were calm but firm as he nodded once more towards the chair and crossed his arms, waiting.

I complied. For now.

He was silent as he shuffled through some files on the desk. A wiser person might have stayed silent and waited for their captors to speak, but I’d never been accused of ever being especially wise.

“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “And why am I here?”

He glanced up and folded his hands on top of a manila file. He didn’t speak, he just studied me, his gaze dark and intrusive.

I shifted, clenching my fists so tightly, my nails bit into my palms.

“My name is Darshan, and you’re here because I need something and I’m hoping you can help me.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

I searched my mind to come up with something, anything that these people might think I could do for them. I had little to offer anyone. I knew that. I wasn’t stupid. But, obviously, he didn’t know that, or maybe I’d been mistaken for someone else?

Darshan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I know you can help me, Wren.”

“I swear I have nothing of any value to you.”

“It’s not about what you have, but who you know.”

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head. Who could I know that these people would want?

Darshan flipped open the file and pulled out a photo. He slid it towards me. His face was hard without a hint of humor. “We want to know where this woman is.”

I looked at the photo to see… me. So not a case of mistaken identity, but very creepy. It took me a moment to take in the rest of the picture and notice the person next to me. My eyes widened.

“Her name is Maeve.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts. “But I believe you know her as Wendy, and others know her as a murderer.”

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About the Author

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Natalie J. Reddy is a Canadian Author who spends her days trying to escape reality by making up stories about the characters in her head.

Natalie realized at an early age that she had a passion for storytelling and that passion followed her into adulthood. There is nothing she loves more than to be pulled into a fictional world whether it’s in her own writing or the writing of others. Natalie is the author of the Scar of Days Forgotten series, a New Adult Urban Fantasy series with characters who have supernatural abilities and dark and sometimes unknown pasts to overcome.

When she’s not writing, Natalie can be found having all sorts of real-life adventures with her husband and daughter or curled up with a good book and a cup of tea.

To keep up to date on upcoming books, subscribe to Natalie’s newsletter at nataliejreddy.com

Natalie J. Reddy | Instagram | Facebook | Goodreads

 

Giveaway: Natalie is giving away signed editions of all 4 books in her Scars of Days Forgotten series and artwork inspired by the books!

*North America Only

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Book Tour Schedule

December 13th

R&R Book Tours (Spotlight) http://rrbooktours.com

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readssandreels.com

Sadies’s Spotlight (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

I Smell Sheep (Review) http://www.ismellsheep.com/

@gryffindorbookishnerd (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/gryffindorbookishnerd/

 December 14th

I Love Books & Stuff (Spotlight) https://ilovebooksandstuffblog.wordpress.com

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

Bunny’s Book Reviews (Review) https://bookwormbunnyreviews.blogspot.com/

Carrie’s Book Reviews (Spotlight) https://carriesbookreviews.com/

December 15th

@books_inthecity (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/books_inthecity/

Rambling Mads (Spotlight) http://ramblingmads.com

@esmeralda_lagiggles18 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/esmeralda_lagiggles18/

The Clumsy Bookworm (Review) https://theclumsybookworm.com/

@theclumsybookworm (Review) https://www.instagram.com/theclumsybookworm/

December 16th

MacroMicroCosm Journal (Spotlight) https://www.vraeydamedia.ca/macromicrocosm-online

 @over.on.my.bookshelf (Review Out of Tour) https://www.instagram.com/over.on.my.bookshelf/?hl=en

   @inkspit.blog (Review) https://www.instagram.com/inkspit.blog/

Latisha’s Low-Key Life (Spotlight) https://latishaslowkeylife.com/

 December 17th

 @bookishkelly2020 (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/BookishKelly2020/

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

The Faerie Review (Spotlight) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

 

 

Book Tour Organized By:

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Mini Tour: Blackbird Rising by Jane Wiseman Genre: Fantasy/ Epic Fantasy/ YA-NA @jane_wiseman @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #BlackbirdRising #Books

Welcome to the mini tour for this stunning new fantasy novel by Jane Wiseman, Blackbird Rising!

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Blackbird Rising (Harbingers 1)

Publication Date: December 2018

Genre: Epic Fantasy/ Mature YA Fantasy/ Coming-of-Age

Minstrel? Spy? Witch? What is Mirin, really?

She’s a young girl. She’s a boy. She loves her sister. She loves a man.

More important, who is she?

The gods have given her a task, to save a realm, to save a queen.

In a brutal world where the young are forced to grow up fast, Mirin’s story is about coming of age too soon, about love and betrayal. It’s about the heavy costs of standing for a cause but standing for it anyway because it is the right. About finding the lost and finding yourself along the way.

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CHAPTER NINE

Playing for Time

By morning, I had a bad case of jitters. I could see Wat did, too. After we breakfasted on some of the scraps we had managed to snag during our march the night before back through the kitchen shed, Wat sat thinking a long time. I tried not to interrupt, although I was itching to do it.

Finally, he looked up at me. “We’ll go in together.” He sounded certain, but his eyes betrayed him. I could tell he was far from certain. Wat’s eyes were a clear azure, like a cloudless noontide sky. But when he was angry or worried, they turned. They became somehow duller and sharper at the same time, as if you were to stare into a pond reflecting a clear noontide sky at the moment a cloud passes over. Or as if you were to sight down the blade of a sword made of fine-tempered steel. As you see, I’d had a long time to study Wat, and at close quarters, too. I knew how to read him, and I read that he was sick with worry.

“How? How will we manage that? Master Charlo is on to you now. He won’t allow it,” I said.
“Probably thinking I’m looking the place over to see what I can steal,” said Wat. “Yes, you’re right. But I’ll manage it.” He summoned up a smile. “You’re modest. You know that? You’re too modest to bathe in front of strangers. I need to be there. That’s what I’ll tell them.” “Will it work?”
“Maybe,” he said. “What if it doesn’t?”

“I’ll create a diversion.” “How in the Nine Spheres will you do that?” The corner of Wat’s mouth quirked up in what passed for one of his enigmatic smiles. But people were starting to drift down the road in our direction. They wanted to be entertained. Wat didn’t answer me. He headed over to our wagon and disappointed them by slapping a large NO PERFORMANCE TODAY sign on the outside of the wagon, and shaking his head firmly at the many who couldn’t read. I wanted him to tell me about his plans, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Instead, he made me go back into the wagon box bed.

“Otherwise every young girl in the Hundred is going to come crowding around to see if she can catch your eye,” said Wat as he shuttered me in. “I look like a girl,” I shouted through the slats.
“I think that may be the point,” he said in a reasonable tone of voice that sent me into a suppressed fury. “You’re not threatening. The mothers don’t fear you’ll run off with the daughters. You’re like a pet. But they can pretend to dream about you. Girls that age. That’s what they do.” He was sitting on the wagon seat, leaning back against the box bed, so we could have a conversation just as if we were face to face.
“No, not today. Sorry,” I heard him call out to someone. “I’m a girl that age. I don’t have thoughts like that.”
“You haven’t had time to. If you were home with your mother, you’d be having them about now.”
“That’s a lie,” I said between gritted teeth. Why was I getting so angry? Maybe so I wouldn’t think about what it would have been like, if I were home with my mother. Maybe because Wat hadn’t bothered to answer my question. “Not a lie. It’s just the truth,” said Wat. “And keep your voice down. Sorry, no performance today,” I heard him call. “How would you know what girls think?” I muttered.
“Oh, I know,” he said. He was infuriating, Wat was. I think he enjoyed it. But he was my master, so I knew not to push him too far. He had never beaten me, not yet. Once he was about to. “Remember your promise to Old Gwen!” I had screamed at him.
“I made her no such promise,” he told me as he circled around to get behind me with the strap he used to hobble Millicent. But in the end, he didn’t beat me. I don’t even remember what I had done to get him so worked up. Probably something dangerous. Every now and again I noticed it. He feared for me. Yet he wasn’t allowed to. That frustrated him, almost beyond bearing.

The time of our summoning drew closer, and the people had all wandered off, so he let me out of the box bed. He still hadn’t told me how he planned to create a diversion. I pulled the Kenning the Juggler costume on again. It was all I could do. The people in the castle would see the boy they expected to see. “We won’t stuff the rags in,” Wat decided, looking me up and down. “They may fall out at the wrong moment, and we don’t want any extra attention. You’ll be fine. You look fine. The servants are not going to be looking too close, down there.”
I turned away to hide my blushing. This part of my costume always made me feel uneasy and wrong. “But when I step into the bath, they’ll notice,” I said, pressing the point.
“They would indeed, but we won’t let them see.”
“How do you plan to keep them from it?” Answer me, Wat. Before he could explain, we noticed Master Charlo shouldering past the guards. He came down the hill toward us.

“Follow my lead,” said Wat to me. I suppressed an annoyed grimace. Wat was always figuring out some plan, I’d have no idea what it was, and I just had to follow along, the instrument the master played upon. “Don’t forget your rebec,” said Wat. When Master Charlo was near enough to speak but not so close that we could give him any vermin or diseases, he addressed Wat. “None of your tricks, young man. Just the boy. I want just the boy.”

Wat bowed to him. Master Charlo reached out his hand to me, then snatched it back. “Come with me,” he said. He turned on his heel and started marching up the hill. With a helpless glance at Wat, I followed the elegantly clothed Master Charlo. But I quickly realized Wat was right behind me. At the gate, Master Charlo turned to me again. When he saw Wat, he frowned. “Fellow, I told you—just the boy. Not you.”

“Good Master Charlo,” said Wat, with another low bow. “My brother is very modest. He is frightened near to death. He’ll not be able to sing.”

It was true. I was frightened, frightened near to death. I didn’t have to act it. “I need to come with him,” said Wat. “At least for the bath and the dressing of him. He hasn’t been parted from me since he was a baby, when we were orphaned.” If Wat thought that heart-tugging story would affect Master Charlo, he was wrong.

“Nonsense,” Master Charlo snorted. “The boy is to come with me. You are to stay.” He looked over at the guards. “See that this fellow remains outside.” Both of them stepped forward. They were very large armored creatures with solid, inscrutable faces under the cones of their helmets. They both carried menacing steel-tipped pikes. Wat simply made another of those obsequious bows. “As you wish, Master Charlo.

“Aedan,” he said to me. “I’ll be waiting here for you, never fear. They’ll send you out to me soon.”
“He’ll sing, or he’ll wish he had,” said Master Charlo. “No one goes against a direct command of her ladyship.” I began to cry. It wasn’t hard to make myself do it.
“What a pathetic excuse of a boy you are,” Master Charlo said to me. “What those girls see in you—”
“Their ladyships?” asked Wat, his voice innocent. Master Charlo gave him a sharp look. “Yes,” he said slowly, with a kind of menace. “Their ladyships.”

“Well, go then, and do your best, brother,” Wat said to me in kind, unctuous tones. “They won’t hurt you. They won’t hurt him, will they? When he can’t? Sing?” he said to Master Charlo. Over Master Charlo’s shoulder, I arched an eyebrow at Wat. He gave me the smallest of shrugs back. We hardly had to speak to each other, Wat and I. That’s how well we knew each other by then, at least where giving a performance was concerned. Really? You’re going for that again? I was saying to him. Might as well was his reply. Might work. Worth a try. Master Charlo’s face clouded up the way the day was clouding up, big thunderheads boiling from behind the castle keep. It’s not going to work this time, I thought. You could fool Master Blue, but not this man.

“Come with me,” Master Charlo snapped. I stepped in behind him and the
guards stepped aside. “Both of them,” he said tight-lipped to the guards. Wat gave me a small sidelong smile as we came through the gates together at Master Charlo’s heels, but when the man turned to make sure we were following him, and probably to make sure Wat was not scouring the place for items to thieve, Wat had made his face as open and sincere and concerned as it was supposed to be. Wat’s ruse had worked again. It really had. Now I did have to act. Act to suppress an admiring exclamation, one actor to another. The fright I felt was too overwhelming, though.

We threaded our way through the castle outbuildings, as before. A patter of rain was starting to fall. I lifted my face to the sky. The rain felt good, comforting somehow, but I knew there was nothing comforting about our situation. Only Wat’s quick thinking saved us this time, as last time, but I knew our luck had to be running out.

Finally we came to an obscure shed with steam rising from its smoke-hole. A woodsy aroma wafted from the shed into the damp air. It reminded me suddenly of home. Master Charlo knocked. A man stuck his head out and glanced at us. “Which one is the boy?”
“Which one do you think?” Master Charlo’s voice was full of exasperation. “Come in, then,” he said to me, and opened the door wide. As Wat made to follow me, he put a hard calloused hand out. “Not you.” To Master Charlo he said, “I’m supposed to bathe one stinking fellow. Not two.”
“This man is his brother, and he says—” Master Charlo began, then clamped his lips together. He turned to the two of us. “The boy is to go in. You may stand outside,” he said to Wat. “I’ll send someone to make sure you don’t wander around. I have things to do.” He stalked off, stopping to talk to another servant, pointing back at us. The other servant, one of the lower-order brown-clad ones, began making his way over to us. Wat looked at the man who was about to bathe me. “My brother is very modest and very frightened. It would be better if I bathe him. You can stand outside.”
“No,” said the tub man.

That was it. There was no arguing with the man. I could see that, and so could Wat. Wat shrugged and turned to lounge against the side of the shed. The servant Master Charlo had sent to watch Wat was nearing. The tub man motioned me inside. I had no choice. Our luck had indeed run out. I went in with him.

There was a large cask steaming with hot water before a roaring fire. I saw stone crocks filled with fragrant soaps and lotions. I saw a suit of clothes, bright and lovely, laid over a bench. I saw large soft towels at the ready. I wanted to get into the cask.
“Put that fiddle down on the bench.” I did so. “Strip,” said the man, “and don’t give me any nonsense about it or I’ll see you beaten. I don’t want to hear about your damned modesty. Just do it. Get in that tub.”

“Will you look away?” I said in a timid voice. He just stood there with his arms folded over his leather apron. “What are you, a little girl? Strip and get in the tub. Don’t think I’m going to touch you. I don’t want your vermin. Leave those silly-looking clothes in a pile over there where I can pole them into the cistern.”
When I hesitated, wondering why he was going to dump my Kenning the Juggler costume into a cistern, he barked at me. “Do it. Do it now.”

Playing for time, I bent down and unwound the yellow cloth from around my tunic and then the cross-gartering from each leg. I dropped the long strips of yellow cloth beside me on the floor. I turned away from the tub man and began to pull the green tunic over my head.
With an impatient grunt, the tub man snatched it from me and threw it to the floor. And then he had the drooping leggings off me. He let out a bellow of surprise. He came at me, and I dodged around the cask of steaming water, trying to knee him in the groin as I darted past him. I missed. That made him angry. He caught up with me. His pig eyes, too small for his lump of a face, were narrowed and glinting. He drew back a meaty fist. There was a scuffle from outside the shed. The tub man and I both whirled around in time to see Wat and the brown-clad servant hurtling through the door and into the shed, falling on the floor and fighting.

“Nine Spheres,” said the tub man. He moved around the cask to pick up his long pole and stood over the two as they rolled and fought, looking for a chance to rap Wat on the head with it. I bent down and lifted one of the stone crocks of soap. I heaved it high and brought it down on the tub man’s skull as hard as I could as he was leaning over the fighters. It barely staggered him, but just enough so that Wat had time to knock the servant to the ground, spring up, and get the tub man by the throat, twisting the man’s leather apron straps tight about his neck. Wat shoved me aside as he hoisted the tub man up by this improvised garrote. “The door,” he said to me over his shoulder. I kicked it shut. When I turned around, Wat had thrust the tub man into the cask, pushing him under the water, holding him down. “Now hand me that pole,” he said.

I stood frozen. I grabbed up the tatters of my clothing and held them to myself.
“The pole,” said Wat. His voice was tense. He bore down on the man in the cask with both hands. Cords of muscle stood out on his arms. Water flew everywhere as the tub man struggled for his life. I reached down with one hand to get the pole, still trying to keep myself covered up with the other. I handed the pole to Wat. He shoved it straight down into the water and leaned on the tub man’s chest with it, keeping the man under. The man thrashed and kicked, but soon weaker. Soon not at all. A stream of bubbles erupted from the water. Then the water was still. “You did well, Mirin,” said Wat, stepping back and casting the pole aside with a clatter.

“You bought me a bit of time.” Still trying to cover myself with my ripped jerkin and leggings, I stood staring in horror at the man in the cask. Wat and I were both soaked, and Wat was breathing hard.
The tub man’s clothes were billowing up to the surface now. “You killed him,” I said. I looked down at the brown-clad servant, who lay sprawled at my feet, his eyes open, his mouth gaped wide. “And him.”

“Yes,” said Wat, not noticing my half-naked state. “Singing is your talent. This is one of mine.”

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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Jane Wiseman is a writer who splits her time between urban Minneapolis and the Sandia Mountains of New Mexico. Her interlocking fantasy series include HARBINGERS (I Blackbird Rising, II Halcyon, III Firebird, IV Ghost Bird), the prequel series STORMCLOUDS (I A Gyrfalcon for a King, II The Call of the Shrike, III Stormbird), the eerie BETWIXT & BETWEEN duology set in the Stormclouds/ Harbingers world (I The Martlet is a Wanderer, II The Nightingale Holds Up the Sky). A tenth book, Dark Ones Take It, is a stand-alone novel about the origins of the series villain. The Harbingers series has a YA-into-NA feel. The other books are many shades darker.

Jane M. WisemanShrike Fantasy Channel

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November 22nd

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

@books_inthecity (Review) https://www.instagram.com/books_inthecity/

November 23rd

Balancing Books and Beauty (Review) https://balancingbooksandbeauties.wordpress.com/

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

November 24th

Nesie’s Place (Spotlight) https://nesiesplace.wordpress.com

Bunny’s Book Reviews (Review) https://bookwormbunnyreviews.blogspot.com/

November 25th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Ignited Moth (Review) https://daleydowning.wordpress.com

November 26th

 Rustic Book Travels (Review) https://rusticbooktravels.home.blog/

@happily_undignified (Review) https://www.instagram.com/happily_undignified/

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Book Release Blitz: Deadly Scars by Natalie J. Reddy @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books #PublicationDay

Happy publication day to Natalie J. Reddy!

Today we are celebrating the release of Deadly Scars, book 4 in her Scars of Days Forgotten series! Read on for more info!

eBook - Deadly Scars (2)

Deadly Scars (Scars of Days Forgotten Series #4)

Publication Date: November 16th, 2021

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance

Nothing is as it seems. No one is safe. 

Wren is alive, but she’s not happy about it. Not when she’s in the clutches of The Council and soul-linked to Darshan, a man whose misplaced loyalties have gotten far too many killed. From the moment she wakes up in the Council’s fortress in the Mountains, she is desperate to find a way out and back to Misha and the Resistance. But this time there will be no rescue. Not when the Resistance thinks she’s dead. 

Now a Commander in the Psi Army, Darshan is determined to protect those he cares for and stop the Council. But he can’t do it alone. There are still so many secrets he doesn’t have answers to, and every choice he makes could be a death sentence to someone he loves. He and Wren soon realize that to get what they want they need to work together and play the parts the Council has set out for them. But can they trust each other? Or will one of them end up betraying the other?  

Misha believes he watched the woman he loves die the death that was meant for him and now he’s bent on revenge. But his revenge is put on hold when Psi begin attacking humans and draining them of blood. As he, Greta, and those left with the Resistance begin to investigate, things only get worse and more confusing. And soon the Psi attacks aren’t the only ones they have to worry about. 

Because something worse is coming. Something that might make monsters of us all.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

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Natalie J. Reddy is a Canadian Author who spends her days trying to escape reality by making up stories about the characters in her head.

Natalie realized at an early age that she had a passion for storytelling and that passion followed her into adulthood. There is nothing she loves more than to be pulled into a fictional world whether it’s in her own writing or the writing of others. Natalie is the author of the Scar of Days Forgotten series, a New Adult Urban Fantasy series with characters who have supernatural abilities and dark and sometimes unknown pasts to overcome.

When she’s not writing, Natalie can be found having all sorts of real-life adventures with her husband and daughter or curled up with a good book and a cup of tea. 

To keep up to date on upcoming books, subscribe to Natalie’s newsletter at nataliejreddy.com

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Book Blitz & FREE Book Announcement: The Storm of Storms (Juche #3) by Adria Carmichael @AdriaCarmichael @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books #YADystopian

To celebrate the release of The Storm of Storms, book #3 in her YA Dystopian saga, Juche, Adria Carmichael is giving the first two installments away for FREE! From September 14th to the 18th, you can download The Demon of Yodok and The Weeping Masses on Amazon for zero dollars!

Juche part three - eBook - CopyThe Storm of Storms (Juche #3)

Publication Date: September 15th, 2021

Genre: YA Dystopian/ Survival

A highly addictive Young Adult Dystopian Survival Saga that will keep you glued to the pages.

Nari’s shocking revelation in the watermill changes everything in an instant, and Areum is once more faced with an impossible decision. Will she betray her sister in order to save her life, or support her and let her die? In the midst of this struggle, the storm of the century hits the camp, and life goes from hard to impossible overnight. Areum slowly comes to realize there is only one way to ensure their survival.

To escape!

But how can they escape from an escape-proof prison camp? And even if they would get past the ferocious dog patrols, the machine gun-equipped guard towers and the electrified barbed wire fence… will she be willing to condemn everyone they’re leaving behind to an inescapable end through torture and death?

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The Demon of Yodok (Juche #1)Juche part one - eBook - Copy

JUCHE [dʒuːtʃe]

Just when Areum, daughter of a privileged family in the totalitarian state of Choson, thought she was free from her personal prison, her world collapses around her as her family are taken away in the middle of the night to a hell-like camp in the mountains where people who have strayed from the righteous path are brutally re-educated through blood, sweat, tears and starvation.

There she has to fight for survival together with the family she hates and is forced to re-evaluate every aspect of her life until then – her deep resentment toward her twin sister; her view of her father in face of the mounting evidence he is a traitor with the blood of millions of fellow countrymen on his hands; and even her love and affection for the Great General – the eternal savior and protector of Choson, whom she had always considered her true father.

Amazon

The Weeping Masses (Juche #2)Juche part two - eBook

Areum’s hopes to be set free from the brutal political prison camp holding them is crushed, and the heinous assault on her sister plunges her into a state of shock and horror… and puts her on a collision course with her family. All hope seems to be lost. Just when she is about to give up, however, a disturbing revelation is made… and as the evil of the camp is given a face, Areum finds a new purpose to keep fighting.

Revenge!

But first they need to survive, and with the constantly harshening conditions and her family being targeted from all directions, daily life in Yodok turns into a never-ceasing fight to evade imminent doom.

On top of everything, an impossible tragedy strikes Choson, and the unquestionable truth Areum has built her life around is challenged to its very core.

Amazon

About the Author

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Adria Carmichael is a writer of Young Adult Dystopian fiction with a twist. When she is not devouring dystopian and post-apocalyptic content in any format – books, movies, TV-series and PlayStation games – she is crafting the epic and highly-addictive Juche saga, her 2020 debut novel series that takes place in the brutal, totalitarian nation of Choson. When the limit of doom and gloom is reached, a 10K run on a sunny day or binging a silly sitcom on a rainy day is her go-to way to unwind.

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